The Fire Within
by Rising Phoenix3
Summary: One-shot: Going back to the days of ancient Egypt, the love affair between Priestess Isis and Priest Set ends as betrayal and nebulous emotions arise.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, go figure, right? **

**(So I was bored and I wrote a most likely one-shot about Priestess Isis and Priest Set, so yeah . . . here goes nothing.) **

**The Fire Within **

The Egyptian air is humid and warm, almost electrically charged, so it seems, with a rough sensuality, which contrasts delightfully with the cold, smooth, stone walls of the Pharaoh's palace.

It is night and the sun has settled low over the horizon, giving birth to a sky dancing with colors of orange and red. It is a primitive display, something that words cannot describe and yet so many have tried at and failed. That beauty is too magical, too arousing to capture. It eludes everyone's touch and slips through their fingers when they become too greedy and grasp too tight. It is like the water from the Nile River, which, when it is cupped gently within one's palm, the cool liquid is content to remain in such place so that its gleaming splendor can be observed at length. But when that same hand closes over the small, stagnant pond that encompasses the palm, it runs like the river from which it was born and seeks escape in the slivers of space between the fingers, falling to the arid red-brown earth below, forever gone, and forever to remain thus.

An eternity passed and the colors of the sky, the oranges and reds gave way to pinks and purples, and finally faded into a black so thick that, if not for the silvery white moon shimmering above and the glowing stars of the heavens dotting the night's canvas, one would be lost immediately if that person dared to step outside of the haven that the palace offered.

Turning her back to the night, Isis, the revered priestess of the Pharaoh, slipped back into the halls of the palace, her solitary pair of sandaled feet clicking upon the emerald marble floors, echoing off the arched ceiling far above her head, unheard by anyone other than herself.

Her head bowed in defeat, she slowly accepted what her heart desperately tried to deny. He had not come. He had not come, despite his promises and avowals to meet her by the western entrance to the palace where they would run into the night to consummate their torrid love affair. And yet he had not come. Despite the memory of kisses so sweet and earnest, he had not come. Not even the lure of being with her again, even for the smallest moment, after so many restless nights of remaining apart could draw him near.

She had waited for hours at the entrance, refusing to believe, as time continued on as it always had, with little regard to how with each moment her heart was weighing more heavily in her chest, that he would do such a thing. And yet, within her, she knew that he would not be there, no matter how long she waited. Still, finding it unbearable to give up hope, she had reverted to dreaming of the way it would feel when he did come. He would kiss her gently and wrap his arms around her as he had done in the past. He would tell her how he loved her and he would look into her eyes as he stroked her back and arms, which would send shivers coursing through her being. He knew her body too well. He knew where to touch her and how. He knew that by kissing her softly under her jaw that by pressing her thinly clothed back against those cold, stone walls, he could drive her close to insanity.

But her dreams were futile and not achieved that night. He had deserted her, but for what or for whom?

Continuing through the halls, unaware of the path she was proceeding down, Isis fought down the worry and overwhelming sadness that was threatening to imprison her mind. For despite how she loved him, and despite how this betrayal weakened her, she was still strong. She was still the mighty Priestess Isis whom so many cowered before. No man, no love would ever steal this attribute from her. She loved him, yes. But she could live without him. She had lived before she had met him; she had not needed his passionate embraces or whispered endearments, and she would not need them now.

Her brow becoming more determined as she thought, she set back her shoulders and lifted her eyes in a look so strong and powerful. She was Priestess Isis. No one betrayed her and remained within her graces. One mistake a person, even a friend, committed against her, and she would cast aside him without afterthought. It was her way. It was what she was commanded to do in this unforgiving world where she was, by decree, only to live for the Pharaoh and no one else, not even for her self.

Turning a corner, to the older wing of the palace that was so dismally dark and gloomy, lighted only by candles hung on the walls, whose flames were so small and easily diffused, Isis heard voices whispering quietly – a woman's and a man's. Following the noise she soon came to a lonely corridor that was very secluded, although more well-lit than the rest of the wing. Again hearing the voices, the man's so familiar; Isis felt her heart break and her mind simultaneously tell her to run away from this pain. Still, her need to see what her ears had heard forced her to look at the scene before her; staying close to the walls, she peered clandestinely to where the couple was located. At that moment she saw the pair and she closed her eyes, as if she could take back what she had seen.

But no, what she had seen was indeed real. He, her lover, was sitting with a beautiful woman cradled lovingly in his arms. The woman was gently stroking his hands with hers and her eyes were lifted to his, in some display of affection. Isis staggered back, as if she had suffered a blow to the face; turning, she ran, heedless of the sound of her feet against the stone floor. She ran for as strong as she was supposed to be – required to be, her heart could not bear seeing the actual betrayal.

She ran and ran until her feet ached and stopping at last, she gazed around her, realizing at once that she was sobbing and that she had come unintentionally to the Pharaoh's chamber in her time of distress.

Her throat constricting, she leaned against the wall, her chest heaving and her eyes wet with tears; her strength had left her and she couldn't move. Sliding to the ground, she sat and wept, her cries forlorn and hauntingly ethereal.

And then a creak. And steps. Wiping her eyes, Isis's vision cleared and before her on the ground were the ornate sandals of the Pharaoh, who had left his chamber at the enchanting sound of a woman crying.

Looking down and realizing that this woman was his priestess, his heart gave way to compassion and, kneeling down, he silently lifted her into his arms and carried her into his chamber.

* * *

The Priest Set lifted his head in wariness at the sound of footsteps that had suddenly resounded throughout the secluded corridor that he had brought the woman in his arms to, after finding her collapsed in another hallway, her body in desperate need of water and rest. The footsteps seemed to have led the person in the opposite direction from the area, but the priest was not comforted by this. Instead, he wondered if someone had been sent to spy on him.

"What is it?" the woman in his arms asked, her eyes half-closed in fatigue.

"I am not certain," he answered after a short pause.

"It will be all right. I _am_ certain," she offered encouragingly, but without any signs of true worry.

"I can only hope that you are correct, Kisara." Agitatedly, Priest Set sat, his legs itching to take him down the path the intruder had taken.

"Go." Kisara murmured, in tune with his stirring emotions.

"What?"

"You wish to leave to . . . investigate. Go."

"I cannot leave you here in your state. To do so would be dishonorable."

"But I am quite fine. See?" Kisara smiled, pushing herself up to a seated position, "I'm sitting. I'm all right now. You rescued me and now I'm fine. Go!"

Nodding, Priest Set left her in the corridor; more convinced that she would be able to get on as she had the previous times he had saved her from the exhaustion that seemed to infest her without end.

Reaching another hallway, the priest stumbled into the path of a palace servant, who was cleaning the floors, his back hunched and his hair grayed. Upon seeing the priest, the old servant's eyes lit up with glee and cackling at Set, he told him that the Pharaoh wished to speak with him immediately. The old servant, who had seen the Pharaoh admit the priestess into her bed chamber, and also knowing of the love affair between the priest and priestess, and furthermore hating with a passion all those above him in connection with the Pharaoh, was determined to stir up trouble.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the servant, Set decided that nevertheless he had better go visit the Pharaoh Atemu, if for nothing other than to notify him of a possible interloper within the confines of the palace.

* * *

The Pharaoh gently laid the priestess upon his bed, worried that she was ailed by a sickness. But upon seeing her tears subside and her eyes clear, he felt relief flood his being.

Quietly, he knelt next to her, and brushing a few wisps of hair away from her face, he whispered a few words of comfort to her.

Isis, her heart jerking at the kind words from the Pharaoh, closed her eyes and soaked them in, feeling, for the first time that evening, at ease and on some level, loved or needed. Reaching over, unconscious of her actions, she ran her small hand over his strong one. Then, opening her eyes and noting his shocked and hesitant expression, she bitterly wondered if any man could want her. Determined to find out, she gazed firmly into his eyes as she lightly turned his palm over so that she could run her fingertips against it and then, seeing his expression further taken aback, but at the same time, his interest aroused, she entwined her fingers with his and drew him up onto the bed next to her.

* * *

As Set neared the Pharaoh's chamber, he realized suddenly that it must be far past nightfall and that he had planned to meet his lover, Isis, at the western entrance to the palace. Cursing under his breath, he hurried to the chamber to speak with Atemu as quickly as possible so that he may still find his Isis and gently persuade her into forgiving him.

At the chamber entrance, Set, not bothering to knock pushed open the door and paused, his eyes seeming to play a trick on him.

* * *

Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Isis gently took one of the Pharaoh's hands and kissed it softly, enjoying the feeling of his heated skin, although instantly wishing that it was Set's hands and not the Pharaoh's, who she now caressed in what could be mistaken for love.

Shoving the thoughts of the priest out of her mind, Isis focused her attention on the man – the god, before her. Rubbing her palms against his chest, she increased her pressure and pushed him back against the pillows, nuzzling his neck and then trailing kisses along his throat and chest, roughly pushing aside his robe as she went.

At this feral movement, the Pharaoh, not understanding the situation, but certainly not against it, despite how others might view this as wrong, that is, for the Pharaoh and his priestess to be intimate. He wanted this – this beautiful woman; he couldn't deny it. But, at the same time, he refused to be conquered; he was not one to be subordinate. With this thought, he rolled her roughly onto her back, while leaning down and kissing her hungrily for the first time on her smooth lips, coaxing her to kiss him as deeply.

And then everything stopped at the enraged howl that suddenly filled the chamber.

Priest Set stood before the bed, his eyes full of hate and anger at the scene playing out before him – the Pharaoh laying half atop Isis, his arms cradling her body in an obvious passionate embrace.

"How _could_ you do this?" Set hissed at his lover as she stared evenly at him.

"How could you?" she returned simply, ignoring the Pharaoh who was silent.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you – with her. You betrayed me, Set. You betrayed me once and that is unacceptable. Leave me be." Isis said, her voice free of emotion, for this was her way as it had been since she had been born unto her mother.

Realization dawned on the priest's face and searching for a hurt concealed behind her eyes, he thought for a way to make her understand, but seeing her face so cold, he knew there was no hope. She had locked him out.

Turning, he quietly exited the chamber, his heart heavy while at the same time, and his hatred for the Pharaoh born at that moment, although his face betrayed nothing of the sort. Finding the chamber where he had left Kisara, the striking palace servant who for reasons not understood by him – he was drawn to, and discovering her sitting upon the same stone bench that he had left her on, took her wordlessly up into his arms and resumed the position they had displayed earlier – she cradled in his arms and he staring wordlessly off at some point unobservable to anyone other than himself.

Sitting there on that bench, the priest realized in shame that he had betrayed his lover, for as the woman in his arms curled nearer to him, his heart gave a leap and he knew that she was somehow more deeply connected with him than Isis could ever be.

* * *

In the Pharaoh's chamber, Isis slowly adjusted her robe so that it again covered her shoulders. Then, with her self properly clothed, she turned toward the man staring at her with an expression mixed with disbelief and pity.

Bowing with the utmost respect, she then left the room and resumed her travel throughout the halls of the palace. No one would speak of this again, she knew. Life would continue on as it had before, although this life would be one without Set's kisses and words of love. He may not despise her at this moment, but Isis knew that without a doubt, he would grow to hate her. He would hate and mistrust her with all his being and somewhere deep in her heart, she knew that what she had done would impact them in their reincarnated lives – never again would Set allow his spirit to feel or connect to her spirit.

As she walked the halls, her solitary feet clicking against the emerald marble floor, she wondered with apprehension what was to come in the future.


End file.
